


How Long Can You Stand the Heat

by Annie D (scaramouche)



Category: We Will Rock You - Elton/May/Taylor
Genre: Gen, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-22
Updated: 2010-12-22
Packaged: 2017-10-13 23:04:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/142700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scaramouche/pseuds/Annie%20D
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Khashoggi's recruitment to the Corporation was a glitzy affair.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How Long Can You Stand the Heat

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sheepfairy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sheepfairy/gifts).



There were two advantages to wearing shades indoors.

One, Khashoggi could study other people without them realizing it.

Two, even if he wasn’t studying them, the fact that he had glasses on at all made them self-conscious in the sense that he _could_ be studying them and they’d never know for sure.

Case in point: the man currently standing next to Khashoggi was trying his best not to fidget, and every other moment or so he’d surreptitiously glance over at Khashoggi – who, by the way, was the epitome of _cool_ – and the not-fidgeting would get worse. Khashoggi, for the most part, was content to feed off his competitor’s nerves, every new second making him feel calmer.

“Standby, gentlemen.” The stage-hand leaned forward to give them both a thumbs-up. “As usual, all mics will be on once you’re out on stage. Good luck.”

“Thank you,” Khashoggi said, stroking one hand down his already-immaculate Ted Baker suit. The man by his side muttered something, but Khashoggi couldn’t hear it over the smoke machines warming up.

There was a whirring click, followed by an explosion of cheers and applause. The sound was muted thanks to their location underneath the stage where they were waiting for their cue, but Khashoggi knew that the audience was going wild because Delilah had made her entrance.

“Ladies, gentlemen and androgynous persons,” Delilah said, magnified voice booming loud all around them. “Now we come to end of it. The final judgment. Please welcome them back on stage: Leroy Brown and Khashoggi!”

The trapdoor above their heads parted, letting in the faint smell of the artificial smoke and flashes from the strobe lights.

Kashoggi and Lorey rose together, the platform underneath their feet moving gently upwards until they hit the open air and the full atmosphere of the arena hit them in the face.

Khashoggi’s head was held high, of course, a photoshop-perfect smile on his face for the audience to enjoy. Leroy could be throwing up now for all he cared, so focused was he on drinking in the energy of the people before them.

“Welcome back, boys,” Delilah said, beckoning them forward as soon as the platform stopped moving. She looked stunning, as usual, little cat’s ears peeking out from her dark red tresses to match the red of her three-piece suit. Delilah turned back to the audience, saying, “Don’t they look fantabulistic? Yes, they sure do! Now before we start, let’s have a flashback all the potentials we’ve had to say goodbye to...”

While Delilah prattled on, Khashoggi let his gaze rest on the trio at the foot of the stage. They were the Audience Prime; the judge, jury and executioner of today’s competition.

Bijou was all smiles, practically bouncing in her seat. Mustapha was tapping his chin and nodding thoughtfully, as though paying actual attention to whatever Delilah was saying.

But those two were not worth Khashoggi’s attention. The real focus of the day’s endeavours was sitting to their right, in her raised dais, her manicured hands resting on the handle of a bedazzled riding crop.

Her interlinked rings spelt K and Q in diamonds so huge they could probably be seen from orbit.

“And now here we are, folks!” Delilah said, working up the audience into a new frenzy. “One of these two was born to be king; a Prince of the Universe! Who will it be...” Delilah pranced around them, flashing her little glo-stick in their faces, “Will it be the daddy cool with a ninety dollar smile: _Leroy Brown_?”

Leroy waved at the audience, fingers fluttering.

“Or will it be,” Delilah whirled to Khashoggi, “The big bad sucker with a fist as big as your head: _Mister Khashoggi_?”

Khashoggi tapped two fingers to his forehead in a salute.

“The vote is in,” Delilah said, dramatically sliding an envelope out of her jacket, “And the results are—”

“Wait.”

Hearing that voice was like an electric shock, and the entire arena instantly fell silent.

One syllable was all it took, and _no surprise,_ since Killer Queen rarely spoke at the past sessions of this tournament except to say something like, “That was absolutely atrocious, you should be deleted immediately” or “There’s nowhere on this planet that deserves to suffer your presence save maybe the Seven Seas of Rhye, off with you.”

Khashoggi thought that he should feel at least a little bit terrified about this, except that Killer Queen was standing up, her minions scrambling to kneel before her and allow her to step on their thighs and then backs on her route up on to the stage.

It was soon clear where Killer Queen’s focus was. She ignored Leroy and Delilah, moving straight towards Khashoggi himself, and the lizard part of Khashoggi’s brain reminded him that he ought to be scared right now, what with the definite stalking quality of the way she was approaching, but he smothered that voice down.

Khashoggi didn’t move, didn’t flinch, didn’t dare even blink when Killer Queen stopped before him. She carefully raised one perfect hand, gripped the bridge of his shades between her finger and thumb, and pulled it off.

The audience gasped, maybe; Khashoggi couldn’t hear much above the roar in his ears.

She had been grand from a distance, but she was like the sun up close. The little sapphires on her eyelashes barely detracted from the brutal sharpness of her gaze. She was magnificent.

“You’re magnificent,” Khashoggi said. He winced once the words were out, because Killer Queen could clone sycophants by the dozen if she wanted, and Khashoggi was here to offer something new – something _better_.

But instead of being displeased, Killer Queen smiled, _actually smiled_ , and not in the way that was the usual prelude for someone’s slow evisceration.

“I know,” Killer Queen said. “Your honesty appeals to me.”

Delilah made an excited sound, fumbling for her microphone. “Killer Queen has just—”

“Shut it,” Killer Queen snapped at her, though her eyes never left Khashoggi.

It was said Killer Queen could read your soul like binary code. That was how she’d made it to the top of the Corporation, every step and choice she’d made in her career ruthlessly accurate, and now she was CEO of the known world, power and perfection in platform boots.

Khashoggi stared back, and let her read.

The world held its breath.

After what felt like a millennia, Killer Queen raised her hand, Khashoggi’s shades hanging from her pinky finger. He accepted them, and carefully slid them back on.

“You know what to do,” Killer Queen said, turning away from him.

And the thing was, he did.

Khashoggi turned at Leroy Brown, who was making no move to hide his pathetic shivering.

“Have him brain-drained,” Khashoggi said. He was not at all surprised when Corporation Police appeared on either side of him, their helmets gleaming and batons glowing, and rushed forward to grab Leroy by the arms.

“No, no, no,” Leroy gasped, but he was dragged off. One remaining Police Officer saluted Khashoggi crisply before following his colleagues.

Delilah, whose eyes were wide as she processed this piece of history unfolding before her, took a careful step towards Khashoggi. She took his hand and raised it above their heads in a victory pose. “Planet Mall!” she announced, “I give you your Globalsoft Idol!”

If the audience had been enthusiastic before, it was downright insane now.

But all of that felt strangely distant to Khashoggi, for none compared to Killer Queen, who was by now back on her dais. She was not applauding with any of the others, but she _was_ delicately running her fingers up and down her riding crop.

“Oh my,” Khashoggi breathed. Life had just taken a turn for the interesting.


End file.
